


Warm Socks Are Everything (Screw you, R&D)

by coffeejunkii



Series: Warm Socks Series [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint Needs a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Protective Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9676589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii
Summary: Clint gets drenched down to his skin on an op--again--but fortunately, Phil is there with some very welcome counter-measures.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Have some fluff, everyone!
> 
> Many thanks for Rurounihime for brainstorming this with me.

Clint squints at the pouring rain and tries to make out the tent that is somewhere in the small clearing. It’s Day 5 of this mission and you’d think that he would know where the tent is out of sheer muscle memory, but it still eludes him. Sometimes, R&D does its job too well.

He taps his comm. “Phil, can you do the thing with the light?”

The answer is almost instantaneous. “Of course.”

A tiny glow appears in the grass three feet to the left. “Got it.” Clint crouches down and hovers until the fingerprint recognition has gone through. He cannot wait to get out of this rain. He’s soaked to the bone—again—and he’s cold and hungry.

Clint unzips the opening to the tent and steps into the small front room where they stow their gear. He closes the tent again and snaps the zipper into the bottom lock. 

“Welcome back.”

Clint turns to see Phil, who still has his Agent Coulson face on, looking out from the mostly zipped flaps of the main room. Warm light spills out around him. “Thanks.”

“I put some clothes out. I also fired up the space heater, so I’ll close this until you’re done, ok?”

Clint waves in acknowledgement. Phil disappears, leaving Clint in near-darkness. 

Setting his bow aside, Clint strips out of his wet clothes. Everything clings to him, making it that much harder to get off. When he’s down to the socks, he mutters, “fuck you,” and tosses them onto the pile. He gives the pile a good kick before turning toward the clothes Phil has set out for him.

Because Phil is Phil, there’s a fluffy towel on top of the stack. And better yet, it’s warm. It makes Clint smile. He’s still not entirely used to Phil looking out for him like that. Never mind that Phil has always looked out for him, but since they got together, Phil’s efforts have intensified. Though ordering twenty-five dryers is still the most fucking romantic thing Phil has done for him.

Clint unfolds the towel, catching the heat pack that tumbles out. He presses his face into the soft cotton for a minute and breathes. He compartmentalizes the op parameters into the work section of his brain and thinks of the evening ahead, filled with blankets and Phil and food and maybe a movie on Phil’s tablet.

Clint scrubs the towel through his hair and dries himself off. The clothes feel warm, too, but no heat packs fall out as Clint puts on underwear, sweat pants, and a fleece hoodie. When he’s down to the socks, the source of warmth revels itself: there’s a heat pack tucked into each sock. 

“Damn, I love you,” Clint murmurs. His cheeks heat because feelings, argh, and saying that out loud is dumb. He should tell Phil, already, but Phil probably knows, right? Phil knows everything.

Clint groans as he pulls on the socks. 

“Found the socks, didn’t you?” Phil calls out. 

Clint grunts his assent and curls his toes into the thick socks. Perfect.

He lets himself into the main part of the tent, where Phil greets him with an amused look. “I’m just about done with today’s report.” Phil sits at the tiny table they managed to squeeze into the tent.

Clint sits down on the edge of the foam mattress that takes up most of the floor space. He flops backward, arms stretched out on either side of him, and revels in how toasty the tent is. This is all he could think about when he was up in that tree today, waiting for those arms dealers to show up finally. They haven’t worked on such a squirrely group of targets in a while.

He drifts off to the sound of Phil typing, but surfaces again when Phil sits down next to him. A hand rubs over his chest. Clint sighs and opens his eyes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” This is definitely off-the-clock Phil now, with the fondness in his eyes and a soft smile.

“You made sure the socks were warm today.”

Phil nudges his glasses higher up his nose. “Well, someone shoved their icy feet under my calves last night.”

“I’m not apologizing for that.”

“Didn’t ask you to. But I thought we could avoid that tonight.”

Clint tugs at Phil’s sweater until Phil lowers himself onto his elbow, his body a line of warmth along Clint’s side. 

“Are you hungry?” Phil asks. “We still have one portion of that mac ‘n cheese you like.”

“Later.” Clint is starving, but he wants this more. “Can we just—c’mon.” He tugs at Phil again until he finally lies down and lets himself be pulled into Clint’s arms.

With Phil’s weight on top of him, Clint can finally let go of this shitty day. He almost feels each muscle unwind one by one, and he tries to match Phil’s deep, even breaths. Phil’s hand strokes up and down Clint’s side a few times before settling low on his hip.

“Sorry that we’re still not done here,” Phil says.

Clint doesn’t even want to think about another day in that forsaken tree. “Not now, ok?”

Phil gives his side a squeeze in a silent apology. 

Something tickles Clint’s nose, and sure enough, he sneezes. Much to Clint’s dismay, Phil sits up and takes all that pleasant warmth with him.

“Under the blankets, now,” Phil instructs as he reaches for the blankets that sit neatly folded at the bottom of the mattress.

“’m not sick. Or getting sick.” 

Phil spreads the first blanket over Clint. “Not taking any risks. I’ve already sent a note to R&D about how your gear still isn’t waterproof.”

Clint burrows into the blankets. They do feel nice. “Rain is tricky.”

“I’ve heard that from R&D, too, but that explanation is becoming increasingly unacceptable.” Phil pulls the blankets higher so they almost cover Clint’s ears. “Food now or nap first?”

That’s an almost impossible decision. Clint almost drifts off trying to weigh one against the other. “Nap,” he mumbles.

“I’ll wake you in thirty.”

**

Clint wakes instantly when Phil calls out his name. Side-effect from too many missions. Clint often wishes that he and Phil could wake each other in another way—a little nuzzling would be nice—but they’ve learned the hard way that that is not a good idea. They’re both too conditioned to act first, and think later, when someone gets too close to them in their sleep. 

Clint blinks his eyes open to find Phil hovering over him. As soon as it’s apparent that Clint is fully awake, Phil’s hand settles lightly on his shoulder.

“I made you some food.” Phil holds out a bowl of mac ‘n cheese.

Clint’s stomach rumbles.

Phil smiles. “That’s why I decided it was time for you to wake up. Your body made it very clear that it needs more energy.”

Clint sits up and leans against the improvised headboard of crates and a blanket. He takes the bowl from Phil and digs in. He doesn’t get why some agents constantly complain about the field rations. They’re good and filling. They could probably be better, but Clint’s had way shittier food in his life.

“You eat, too?” He asks around a spoonful.

“I did. Before you got back.” Phil moves to sit next to him, their shoulders bumping. “Do you want to watch something?” He pulls his tablet closer.

“Nothing work-related.” Clint slides down a little and leans into Phil. 

“Okay, no spies or government conspiracies.” Phil scrolls through the list.

“Oh, this one!” Clint points at _Zootopia_.

Phil makes a face. 

“It’s fun, I promise. I saw most of it on a plane, but I didn’t get to see the last twenty minutes, so, please?”

Phil holds out for about ten seconds. “Alright.”

Clint tilts his head up to press an uncoordinated kiss to Phil’s jaw. “Thank you.”

Phil ends up enjoying the movie, which pleases Clint. Who could not love the story of a fierce police bunny? 

During a chase sequence, Clint says, “We haven’t had this much downtime together in forever.”

“Technically, we’re working.”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean. Obviously I hate sitting in that tree all day, and I know you have your hands full coordinating surveillance. But once our shifts are over, there’s no one who needs to hold an emergency meeting, or can add you to the on-call roster at the last minute, or make you fill out more paperwork.”

Phil noses into Clint’s hair. “When you put it like that.”

“You know I’m right.”

Phil tightens his arms around Clint for a moment. “I do.”

This feels like the right moment to tell Phil, finally. They already said some sappy things to each other, and they’re in bed together, but not under a post-orgasmic haze, and he doesn’t have to look Phil in the eyes because he has his head tucked under Phil’s chin.

“Hey, Phil?” Clint starts softly.

“What?”

Clint panics for a second because this is a lot all of a sudden. But no, he’s going to do this. No panic allowed. “I just wanted to say—I mean, I think you know, but maybe you wanted to hear…what I mean is, I love you.” Clint holds his breath.

Phil doesn’t say anything right away, but he kisses the top of Clint’s head. “Love you, too.” There’s a slight waver in Phil’s voice.

If hearing those words makes Phil’s emotions bleed into his voice—which rarely happens—it was definitely the right choice to tell him. “I’ll try to say that more often,” Clint promises.

Phil very deliberately in- and exhales. His voice is back to normal after, but there’s a warmth to it that always makes Clint like everything’s okay in the world. “I can’t deny that it’s wonderful to hear, but I know that’s hard for you. But you show me in so many ways.”

“I wasn’t the one who requested twenty-five dryers for SHIELD safe houses.” Clint will never let Phil live that down.

“And I’d do that again in a heartbeat.”

Clint turns his face further into Phil’s chest because he can’t just say stuff like that. “Let’s keep watching the movie.”

Phil laughs. “Fine. But I’ll never stop saying this: I love you, Clint Barton, and you deserve all the heat-generating household appliances in the world.”

Clint makes an anguished noise. He’ll never look at a dryer the same way again.

They finish the movie and settle down to sleep. Phil wraps himself around Clint, and for a little while, life is pretty damn good. He may have to face that stupid tree again tomorrow, but afterward, he gets to have this again: laughter, and warmth, and Phil. And that makes it worth it.


End file.
